Rose Weasley and the Consequences of Getting Laid
by enchanted.teapot
Summary: An awful lot of firewhiskey and one very bad decision puts Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy in a rather awkward situation.


**New fic., little bit different, little bit saucier. Just the opening part for now but I hope you like it! Can't wait for feedback, loves, E Teapotxx**

* * *

Scorpius Malfoy was having the worst evening ever.  
Having watched his team suffer a soul-destroying defeat out on the Quidditch pitch that morning, the poor chap had somehow managed to find himself in the midst of the Gryffindors' victory party. He also appeared to have acquired a giant lion hat that roared rather loudly every time he tried to speak which, whilst undoubtedly made him look very festive, was doing bugger all to buoy his steadily worsening mood. In contrast, his fellow Slytherin team mates seemed to have bounced back from their crushing loss with remarkable ease which was very nice for them.

Perhaps it was something to do with being Captain, or that this had been his final year and very last chance to bring the Cup back to the dungeon trophy cabinet that made the sting of defeat that little more raw for Scorpius. Whatever the reason, the only thing consoling the young Mr Malfoy at this moment in time was the very large bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey he'd prised from the grasp of a semi-unconscious Patrick Finnigan who lay slumped on the floor in front of him.

A quick glance down at the Irish poster-child confirmed that he was now drooling all over Scorpius' brand new shoes. This news, coupled with the revelation that Kenneth Macmillan had a matching lion hat, naturally served to piss him off even more. Merlin, how he hated the name Kenneth.

By the time that Lewis McLaggen collapsed into his lap entangled in a very enthusiastic sixth year Hufflepuff whom Malfoy was quite sure _wasn't_ his girlfriend, Scorpius had decided he'd had about as much as he could take of all the Gryffindor cheer. It wasn't that he was a sore loser, in fact he had to admit that the young Lily Potter had played a first class team out there today but all this frivolity was really only rubbing salt into the wound. Extracting himself from the mess of limbs now occupying the sofa and snatching up the half-empty bottle of whiskey, he headed for the portrait hole.

"Chin up Mr Malfoy," the Fat Lady sang merrily as he trudged past, shoulders slumped. "It's never as bad as it seems."

He smiled wearily and gave her a quick wink, "Sleep well gorgeous," to which she giggled, her own goblet of wine sloshing all over that lovely silk dress of hers. Uncorking the firewhiskey and taking a hefty swig, much of which ended up straight down his shirt, Scorpius headed glumly for the Slytherin common room.

* * *

Rose Weasley was having the worst evening ever.  
Having watched her cousin Lily haul in the Quidditch Cup for Gryffindor yet another year running, she had actually arrived at the victory party in good spirits. Seeing her latest boyfriend of three weeks, Lewis McLaggen with his tongue down another girl's throat however, had put rather a downer on her exuberant mood. Never one for tears, Rose had instead opted for complete obliteration of her cognitive functioning and so with an exceptionally vocal toast to the untimely removal of McLaggen's under-sized testes, the young Miss Weasley had begun her adventure to the bottom of a bottle of Ogden's finest.

Like most other things in her life, Rose was really very skilled at getting thoroughly blitzed. In fact as she stumbled past a chorus line of the Gryffindor team attempting to perform a heavily inebriated can-can, she was already the text-book definition of hideously drunk. Her vision was double, walking in a straight line was out of the question and for some reason she found all of this rather amusing and was hiccoughing with laughter.

It was only when Kenneth Macmillan hurtled past clutching a hand to his mouth, almost knocking her over in his desperation to make it to the open window that she started to feel the faint churns of nausea herself. Merlin, how she hated the name Kenneth.

Oh this was not good. She sucked in a deep breath, hand reaching out to steady herself on the nearest wall which, unfortunately, turned out to be the very alive and rhythm lovin' Elliott Corner who proceeded to misinterpret her nose dive into his chest as an invitation to dance and spun her wildly into the middle of the bustling throng.

The dozens of people around her became a carousel of colourful blurs as she struggled to find her bearings with her rapidly deteriorating vision. Her hand flew to her mouth, her stomach lurching as Elliott pulled her tightly against him and she mused idly how mad her fellow Ravenclaw would be if she were to surprise him with a friendly vomit over the shoulder. Deciding against it, he _was_ wearing a very nice shirt after all, she prised herself from his grasp and began pushing back through the crowds. Maybe Kenneth would share his window with her if she asked nicely?

It seemed, however, that her internal compass was a little off following her rapid consumption of a litre's worth of liquor and so, when she finally emerged from the mob she found herself tripping head first out of the open portrait hole and landing rather unceremoniously flat on her arse. Blinking in surprise for a moment, Rose let out an almighty groan, her head flopping into her knees as she allowed her stomach and all its liquid contents to catch up with her.

"A little worse for wear are we Miss Weasley?" The Fat Lady chirped from on high, her head-dress having slipped over one eye suggesting she might not have been all that lucid herself.

Choosing to ignore the snorts of laughter now ringing out behind her, Rose hid behind a curtain of dark copper curls. Maybe this had been a bad idea after all; she hadn't nearly succeeded in forgetting about Lewis, nor had she had that great a time _trying_ to and no matter how ill she might feel now, she knew that would be nothing in comparison to what she had to look forward to tomorrow morning. She smiled wryly, Al always did say she was terrible at handling emotional situations. And then it hit her.

"Al," she muttered, sitting upright a little too quickly and having to steady herself from toppling over the top step. He was bound to have a few anti-nausea spells up his sleeve, perhaps even a cheeky hangover potion or two. No matter how many mean things Rose could say about her Slytherin cousin, and she certainly could and had said quite a few in her time, that boy was an absolute lifesaver when it came to compensating for the sins of a heavy night-before. All she had to do was find him although in her current state that wasn't going to be as simple as it sounded.

He hadn't been at the party, she was almost sure of that and she certainly wasn't going back in to check. No, Albus was the Slytherin keeper and could be a terrible sulk just like his Father. Not a chance he'd grace the Gryffindor, not to mention his _little sister's_ victory party with his presence after today's result. Rose nursed her forehead, a headache threatening her temples. If only she could think through her whiskey haze and remember which girl he was supposed to be seeing this month. Maybe he'd have gone to seek some 'late night comfort' and she could find him there?

It wasn't Poppy Boot was it? Rose hiccoughed thoughtfully, no they broke up after she unthinkingly remarked on how his new 'messy-chic' haircut looked exactly like his old one, just a little less combed. She had a feeling it might have been one of the Sloper twins, although she couldn't for the life of her guess which one, nor could she recall at this moment which house either of them were in so that wasn't particularly helpful. There was nothing for it, she'd just have to stumble her way down to the Slytherin dungeons and look for him there.

Staggering to her feet, Rose tripped down the first few stairs, gripping the banister tightly as she slowly began lurching her way past the hundreds of sleeping portraits. Pausing at one point to giggle hysterically as she fell up to her knee through a vanishing step, she inched her way down to the dungeon entrance, the snores of the now comatose Fat Lady still audible even over the considerable distance. Suddenly wishing she hadn't left her bottle of firewhiskey so very far away and after deliberating the various pros and cons of making a return trip for it, she muttered a quick "Tinderblast" to the unassuming bare wall in front of her before stepping through into the dimly lit room it shifted to reveal.

Struck as usual by just how very very green everything was in here, Rose tripped her way inelegantly over to the entrance to the boy's dormitory, peering up the winding staircase with a frown.

"AL!" she yelled unceremoniously. "ALBUS?"  
She attempted to tap her foot impatiently which sent her staggering backwards a few feet.

"ALBUS SEVERUS POTTER! IF YOU'RE IN HERE...Oh for Merlin's sake," she groaned, pulling herself over to the fireside sofa and collapsing into the stack of emerald cushions. Where the bloody Hell was this boy? And what on Earth was she going to do if she couldn't find him? She positively dreaded to think where this night was going to lead if she didn't sober herself up pretty sharpish. Her Mum had already promised to make her life a misery after that last owl home about _'improper conduct for a student and a prefect'_ and Rose wasn't particularly keen to give her any further reason to make good on the offer.

She supposed with a sigh that she really ought to just go back to the Ravenclaw common room and sleep it all off but that really did seem so awfully far away and there was always the unappealing possibility that Elliott Corner was waiting up for her and sweet Merlin, was that what she thought it was?

Quickly getting down on her hands and knees, Rose peered under the coffee table, reaching out a hand until her fingers coiled around the thick glass bottle she'd seen reflecting the firelight. Sitting back on her heels, she grinned with wicked glee at the quarter full bottle of Ogdon's Finest in her hands. Though she was certain she'd probably had more than enough alcohol for the night, one last drink was unlikely to make any difference and this was the _really _good stuff- just lying there, tossed aside, and unwanted. Arguably, Rose concluded, it was meant to be and on that note, she yanked out the glass stopped with her teeth and tossed back a mouthful of the fiery amber elixir.

* * *

With one hand firmly pressed against the bathroom wall, Scorpius held himself upright as he struggled to aim for the urinal. Sweet Merlin's balls, he was hammered. Glancing down at his handiwork he chuckled grimly. Filch would not be happy having to deal with this in the morning, but then again, Scorpius reasoned, by all scientific logic that man should be dead and gone by now so he should really appreciate his every moment left in this world.

Since leaving the party, Malfoy's night had gotten progressively more enjoyable. This, it seemed, was negatively correlated with the amount of firewhiskey left in his bottle which he had then tragically lost after tripping backwards over the arm of the sofa in a tremendous display of both his gymnastic talents and current inability to feel pain.

Finishing up and staggering over to the wash basin, Malfoy paused with a frown. Somebody was shouting. Very loudly. Bugger it all, he hoped people weren't starting to head back already, he'd rather being enjoying the whole alone and brooding experience. He hoped sincerely they would leave.

"ALBU- Oh," the two bodies collided at the base of the stairs leaving Scorpius rubbing his chin and Rose holding her forehead with a scowl. "You're not Albus."

Scorpius opened his mouth to retort and his lion hat promptly roared in Rose's face.

Mildly taken aback by this, Rose, still clutching the bottle of whiskey against her chest, stared at him curiously for a moment. "Do you," she paused for a hiccup, "Do you know where he is?"

After a very long pause in which Scorpius struggled against the child-proof fastening on his novelty head-gear, he finally managed a very curt: "This isn't your common room."

Rose quickly glanced around, "No, no it isn't," she sounded slightly surprised.

"How did you get in?"

"Through the door silly," Rose giggled, rolling her eyes at him incredulously before taking another sip from the nearing-empty whisky bottle and starting to hum to herself.

Double bugger, Scorpius mentally cursed. He was always forgetting that half the student body seemed to be related to one another these days and common room passwords were shared just as freely as genes. And whilst Al was one of his closest mates in Slytherin, he never had much time for the rest of the Weasley-Potter clan, finding them almost irritating when they all got together and started shrieking at one another across the dining room.

"Are you a prefect Malfoy?"

Scorpius, startled from his train of thought, blinked at Rose in disbelief, "I've sat opposite you on the committee for two years now."

"Really?" Rose looked up from the sofa in astonishment. "Well, do you ever say anything in meetings?"

"I'm err, more of a private than a vocal thinker..." In truth, Scorpius cared very little for the role of Slytherin prefect, most days forgetting to wear the daft badge anyway. He'd also been skipping patrol duty for the past two weeks but he wasn't about to tell Rose that. "And _that, _is mine."

Marching over to her, or rather stumbling as purposefully as he could, he snatched at the Ogden's bottle as she raised it to her lips, knocking back a fair few hefty gulps of the stuff as she protested angrily beneath him.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you to share Malfoy?" she scowled, watching as he wiped his hand across his mouth with a satisfied smirk.

Had she not been as heavily inebriated as she was, Rose might have observed how strange it was for her to be sat here alone with Scorpius Malfoy. Not that there was any particular animosity between them, oh they got on well enough when they had to, but in actual fact they'd never really had more than a few polite exchanges since their first introductions courtesy of Al. They weren't what you would call friends by any stretch of the imagination; they never hung out, neither did they feel any great need to. Scorpius was one of Albus' friends and Rose was Albus' favourite cousin and when their paths ever crossed, which surprisingly they rarely did, there was little more to be said besides a _'Hullo. Alright? Know where Al is?_' sort of thing.

But Rose wasn't thinking about this. She was too busy reaching over to where Malfoy had positioned himself at the end of the sofa in order to reclaim the last few dregs of the whiskey.

Returning victorious to her own side, Rose pursed her lips. "Who is Albus dating this month?"

"One of the Sloper twins I think."

"Which one?"

"Don't think he's decided yet," Scorpius muttered boredly, running a hand through his already unkempt hair and undoing the top button or two on his liquor stained shirt. Rose watched this out of the corner of her eye, caught a glimpse of a smooth, exposed collarbone and felt the need to cross her legs.

"And why is it exactly that you don't have a girlfriend?" she slurred, swilling the last half inch of liquor around in the bottom of the bottle.

"Not really my scene," he staggered to his feet with a shrug, edging his way around the back of the sofa keeping one eye on Rose who was half lost in thought. "And where's your better half this evening Weasley?"

Rose smiled grimly, "I'd really rather not know. I can safely say I won't be seeing much of McLaggen anymore."  
At that moment, as she lifted the bottle to take the final sip of whiskey, Scorpius pounced, throwing himself over the back of the sofa and catching her completely off guard. Rose shrieked in surprise, laughing as a wrestling match broke out between them, Scorpius pinning one of her arms down with a grin as she cried out in mock pain, trying to kick out at him whilst holding the bottle aloft and just beyond his reach.

Suddenly Rose caved, her arms and legs giving in causing Scorpius to slip forward until he was lying flush against her, straddling her hips with one hand wedged beneath the small of her back. Rose, still laughing, tried to wriggle her way out from under him which only served to bring their bodies that little bit closer together until she could feel almost every inch of him pressed up against her. As their laughter quieted, the bottle slipping completely from her grasp as he stared at her from beneath stray wisps of platinum blond hair, a strange silence descended upon the room.

Scorpius wasn't sure where to look so he just looked at her. Rose wasn't sure where to look either so she just looked at him.

"You're on top of me," Rose muttered. Scorpius could smell the firewhiskey on her breath.

"So it would seem," he arched a slim eyebrow as he felt her thigh twitch against his. Rose could feel her breathing slow and deepen, a sudden hardness pressing against her hip and saw Malfoy's gaze flicker between her eyes and her lips for just the briefest of moments.

This was the definition of a bad decision. They were hideously drunk, little more than acquaintances and in a rather public place. This was the stuff of parental nightmares and both Rose and Scorpius knew that they really _really_ shouldn't and yet they really _really _wanted to.

Without thinking, Rose reached out a hand and gently ran a finger across his pale and exposed collarbone. His sharp intake of breath sent a familiar pulse to her centre and she couldn't help but arch her hips a little beneath him.

"You're being a tease Weasley," he growled, the last shreds of his reasoning desperate to be heard amongst the flood of other thoughts now entering his head.

"There are worse things...," she murmured, shivering as his hand slid just beneath her shirt, his fingers cool against her burning skin. He narrowed the gap between them, their lips almost grazing as his fingers started to rub in small circles across her hip bone, edging their way millimetre by painstaking millimetre towards the buttons on her jeans.

Rose felt her nerves crackle beneath her skin. Her mouth was dry but she knew for a fact that elsewhere was not and she wanted him, badly. Scorpius was having a hard time not just ripping off her shirt. His trousers were becoming uncomfortably tight and with every slow, deliberate move of her body beneath him, all arguments against proceeding were becoming less and less clear. Their lips were fractions of a centimetre apart, eyes firmly locked on one another, daring their opponent to make the first move and as Rose slowly slid a leg up along the inside of his thigh, Scorpius found he couldn't restrain himself any longer.

"Sod it," he growled, burying a hand amongst her mass of dark curls as he crushed his mouth onto hers. Rose responded eagerly, unable to hold in a small moan as his hips ground more firmly against her. Within seconds shirts had been pulled over heads and tossed to the ground, hands were fumbling with belts and buttons and clasps, and cries and satisfied groans echoed around the common room walls as fingers found their targets.

Through the fog of whiskey and hormones, Scorpius, rather breathlessly, pushed himself up on his elbows. "You're not a err, well you know, are you?"

Rose, frustrated at the interruption and equally dazed, shook her head in an attempt to focus, "What? Am I a what- oh. Oh! No," she heaved for air, "I'm not a, _you know_. Wait, are you?"

"Sweet Merlin no," Scorpius swore with relief and with that it was business as usual.


End file.
